America's most exotic locale treasures its past even as it embraces the future

By 1921, Somerset Maugham had spied for the British in Russia, sailed around the Pacific, and trooped through China. But "nothing had prepared me for Honolulu," he wrote that year. "It is the meeting place of East and West. The very new rubs shoulders with the immeasurably old. . . . All these strange people live close to each other, with different languages and different thoughts. . . . And somehow as you watch them you have the impression of extraordinary vitality."

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Today Maugham's observations are no less relevant. Honolulu—located on Oahu and the capital of an eight-island chain 2,300-odd miles from the next major landmass—remains the world's most improbable polyglot city, where 876,000 descendants of Hawaiian royalty, Asian field hands, Micronesian seafarers, missionaries, and, every Christmas at least, Kenyan fathers and Kansan mothers who met at the University of Hawaii, all coexist in one of the loveliest places on earth.

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But just as Honolulu is one thing to its residents—a land where it is possible to remake yourself entirely, to move from serf to public servant in just a generation or two—it is something else to tourists, who see it (if they see it at all) as a stopover on the way to the beaches of Maui, the wilds of Kauai, the golf courses of Lanai. To too many travelers, the city means only the faded glitter of Waikiki, long stripped of its allure.

However, it's exactly Honolulu's slightly recherché spirit that makes it so fascinating and so worth visiting, argues Mary Philpotts McGrath, the islands' preeminent interior designer, whose eponymous firm was responsible for the makeover of Waikiki's iconic landmark, the Pepto-Bismol-pink Royal Hawaiian hotel. "We all try to maintain what's old here," she says. "Anything we can reuse, we take a good hard look at and try to keep. It's the old areas that are the most interesting." Indeed, while residents in other cities are eager to show visitors what's new (the new convention center! the new restaurant! the hot new district!), in Honolulu, it's the old that locals truly treasure.

One neighborhood all Honolulans love is Chinatown. Although just a ten-minute drive from Waikiki, it feels eons away, with its low-slung, gallery-windowed brick buildings, cracked sidewalks, and open-air stores selling fists of dried gingerroot and dusty canisters of tea. But between the apothecary shops, pho restaurants, and traditional Chinese bakeries are boutiques, galleries, and coffeehouses that wouldn't look out of place in Brooklyn's Williamsburg or San Francisco's Tenderloin. Locals note with pride that the area has managed the neat trick of gentrifying without sacrificing either its native flavor or, just as important, its natives.

"It's really the playground for the pau-hana [Hawaiian for "after-work"] set," says art consultant Trisha Lagaso Goldberg, who grew up on the island and returned five years ago after more than a decade in San Francisco. "Everyone comes downtown to drink, eat, catch up, and look at art." But for Goldberg, Chinatown is not just a lively place to hang out; it's proof that a new generation can successfully carve out its own home in a city notorious for its high rents and limited space. So much of Honolulu can feel like it's meant only for visitors, but in this neighborhood everyone is welcome. "The new breed of stylemaker wants to hear the old-timers' stories," she adds. "The people who live and work here have a reverence for the past, for the land. It's what makes Hawaii special."

But it's not only Honolulu's new crop of residents and entrepreneurs who respect nature; in fact, it's impossible not to revere the land here. The southern part of the city is anchored by the long, enticing stretch of Waikiki shoreline, cleaner now than in decades past, and accessible day or night—all beaches in Hawaii are public, so anyone can ply the same waters enjoyed by the President on his annual vacation. On the eastern side of town, bisecting the city, is the lush, tree-thick Koolau Range, a fragment of one of the volcanoes that created Oahu more than two million years ago.

Native Hawaiians worshipped the bounty both ocean and land provided, and their culture permeates every aspect of life here. All Honolulans have something of the magpie in them, picking and choosing from one another's cultures things they admire or think sensible (everyone, for example, has adapted the Japanese custom of removing their shoes before entering a house, and the Polynesian tradition of tucking a flower behind their ear), but it's the Hawaiians whose influence reigns supreme. And for good reason: Hawaii is the only state with its own royal family (the senior members of the clan remain influential figures), its own dance, its own musical genre, and its own language. The streets and neighborhoods have largely Hawaiian names, and everyone sprinkles at least a dozen or so phrases into their daily conversation.

A five-minute walk from Chinatown is the modest Iolani Palace, America's only official royal palace, where Hawaii's last queen, Liliuokalani, was held in 1895 until she abdicated so the islands could be annexed by the U.S. Inside, the dark wood floors and heavy draperies speak to the royal family's ambitions and tastes; although the monarchy lasted only a hundred years, its architectural remnants can be found across the city. Near Iolani Palace is Washington Place, once Liliuokalani's home, and, for many years, the governor's mansion. And in Nuuanu, a nearby area known for its cool breezes and misty mountaintops, is the Victorian-inflected Queen Emma Summer Palace of King Kamehameha IV's wife and consort.

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Nuuanu and downtown may have the flashiest histories, but Honolulu has other areas that offer equally compelling counter­points to Waikiki. "The neighborhoods are where it's at," says McGrath. One of the city's most beloved is Manoa, in another valley a few miles inland, where Barack Obama once lived. It is punctuated by white plantation-style wood bungalows and yards made colorful with heaps of bougainvillea, stands of lobster-claw heliconia, and copses of banana and papaya trees. Deep in the valley, at local favorite Andy's Sandwiches and Smoothies, flip-flop-shod students wait alongside guidebook-toting tourists and professors from the nearby University of Hawaii for ahi-and-avocado sandwiches and coconut-papaya smoothies.

Although no longer associated with excess the way it was during Honolulu's 1980s real-estate bubble, Kahala, the area surrounding Diamond Head, to the east of Waikiki, remains home to some of the most stunning, glossy, and pricey properties on the islands, many of them hidden behind elaborate gates. One of its most famous, however, is visitable: Doris Duke's Shangri La estate, whose interiors glint with the heiress's spectacular collection of Islamic art and whose windows look out over the waves—paradise in the midst of paradise. Duke willed that the house be open to the public, and the Honolulu Academy of Art now conducts tours through its tiled and bejeweled rooms.

Outside, residents power walk up Kahala's curving streets, getting in their exercise before an early dinner (everyone in Honolulu eats early) at someplace like Alan Wong's Restaurant, whose Asian–Pacific Rim menu features dishes like opihi (a local limpet) shooters flavored with ume and shiso, or sweet-and-tangy Peking duck salad. At the elegant Halekulani hotel's open-air restaurant, locals and tourists alike gather to listen to Hawaiian music and watch hula as darkness sets in. Just beyond the lawn, surfers bob in the water, hoping to catch one last wave.

Of all the Hawaiian words Honolulans use, aloha is perhaps the most difficult to translate, but the easiest to appreciate—it means hello and good-bye, but it also means something else: that generous welcome, that affectionate, open-armed embrace even the most reluctant visitor can't help but feel from the city's residents. The aloha spirit has moved generations of tourists to rip up their return tickets and stay, inventing for themselves a new life in Maugham's "meeting place of East and West." How many other cities can say they've inspired so many major life changes in so many different people? So aloha, though consider yourself warned—you never know where a visit here might lead, or how long it might last.

Immerse yourself in old Hawaii. Honolulu's real heart is Chinatown, one of the oldest districts and home to many of its most interesting galleries, restaurants, food markets, boutiques, and architecture (see chinatownhi.com for a downloadable map).

Live like a king. Evidence of the islands' not-too-distant royal past can be found at the splendidly restored Iolani Palace (corner of S. King and Richards streets, 522-0822; iolanipalace.org), where the last queen, Liliuokalani, was imprisoned in 1895.

Hit the beach. On the Waikiki side, the best strand is Kaimana (the beach closest to Diamond Head). Magic Island, a man-made peninsula, is a local favorite. On the windward side, Lanikai's fine sand and calm, sparkling waters make it ideal for families.

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Lei of the land. Locals buy the necklaces of fragrant blooms for birthdays, graduations, promotions, anniversaries—or just because. Two of the best sources, both in Chinatown, are Lin's Lei Shop (1017-A Maunakea St., 537-4112; linsleishop.com) and, right across the street, Cindy's Lei Shoppe (1034 Maunakea St., 536-6538; cindysleishoppe.com).

WHAT TO SEE

The Arts at Marks Garage, 1159 Nuuanu Ave., 521-2903; hawaiiartsalliance.org: One of Honolulu's first multipurpose performance spaces and still host to Oahu's most cutting-edge visual-arts exhibitions and live presentations.

The Contemporary Museum, 2411 Makiki Heights Dr., 526-1322; tcmhi.org: Located in a lovely house atop Tantalus, with thoughtful and well-curated shows of contemporary art.

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Hawaii State Art Museum, 250 S. Hotel St., 586-0900; hawaii.gov/sfca: The Spanish-mission-style building, formerly a hotel and a YMCA, houses the islands' sole museum dedicated to local art. The café is excellent.

Lyon Arboretum, 3860 Manoa Rd., 988-0456; hawaii.edu/lyonarboretum: Hawaii is one of the most diverse places on the planet; here's where to check out its varied plant life.

Shangri La, 4055 Papu Circle, 734-1941; shangrilahawaii.org: Eccentric heiress Doris Duke created a spectacular home, then filled it with wondrous Islamic art. Book a tour well ahead, as they sell out.

Thirtyninehotel, 39 N. Hotel St., 599-2552; thirtyninehotel.com: A DJ one night, live music the next, and exhibitions during the day—this arts space draws the city's creative crowd.

WHERE TO STAY

Halekulani, 2199 Kalia Rd., 923-2311; halekulani.com: It's right in the heart of Waikiki, but step into the open-air lobby and the city seems to melt away. The spa is first-rate, and the outdoor restaurant has excellent Hawaiian music and hula dancing.

The Kahala Hotel and Resort, 5000 Kahala Ave., 739-8888; kahalaresort.com: Tucked into Kahala, an upscale neighborhood, it's the choice of diplomats, heads of state, and anyone seeking a little privacy.

The Royal Hawaiian, 2259 Kalakaua Ave., 923-7311; royal-hawaiian.com: A temporary home to everyone from FDR to Joan Didion, the original wing of this candy-bright icon was handsomely restored two years ago.